


this love is not a song

by deathbymutation



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Unrequited Love, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbymutation/pseuds/deathbymutation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur spends his days admiring a fellow classmate from afar</p>
            </blockquote>





	this love is not a song

**Author's Note:**

> Written for inception's secret santa in 2011 for dulcitone.   
> Beta'd by tehuberfangirl

_First Week of June_  
  
 _I burn, I pine, I perish._ Arthur stared at his profile; his face a canvas of sharp lines and smooth lips. Soft locks tucked behind freckled ears and nose too red from the afternoon sun.   
  
The sun-crisped grass prickled his thighs through his pants, sweat already pooling at the base of his neck. It was too hot for this.  
  
Arthur dug his fingers into the dry earth when _he_ laughed, head thrown back and eyes closed. It was beautiful sight.   
  
“Faggot,” Someone hissed as a sharp pain spiked through his lower back. Arthur bit his lip, keeping his cry to himself. His eyes kept to the ground as the stranger passed him.   
  
_Ah, not a stranger then._ It was Keith, a towering selfish brute who thought himself a Lothario. The boy slumped down next to his friends, greeting them joyfully before sending Arthur a disgusted look. At least he hadn’t gone as far as to point it out to the others, the humiliation from being caught staring was almost too much.  
  
The usually meticulous Mr. Whillane was frazzled and tired looking in this early June heat. Thin grey hairs clung to his damp skin as he blew his whistle, calling the students to attention.  
  
“Quiet down,” His hands raised in attempt to calm the rowdy youth. “I know you’re all very excited about graduating but I can still fail you!”  
  
Arthur watched as Eames shoved his friend’s shoulder, brilliant smile present on his face. Sometimes he wondered why that easy grin couldn’t be aimed in his direction. The curve of lips, the hint of something dirty and the infinite twinkle, Arthur wanted all of that.   
  
Soon his attention was directed elsewhere, their teacher was clearly not amused by the students who were enjoying the warm sun. The whistle screamed once again, its blower turning bright in the face.  
  
As time progressed is a slow fashion, Arthur did not take notice of a _someone_ glancing in his direction with a wistful look upon his face.  
  
  
  
 _The Next Day_  
  
The wooden bottom of his chair had begun splintering earlier this semester. He had been forced to suffer tiny pinpricks in his thighs since January.   
  
The ever-pleasant Mr. Trembley was giving his usual two cents about criminal law and how society was fractured. While Arthur found this class to be far more entertaining than economics, it was for entirely all the wrong reasons. He liked when Mr.Trembley recounted the tales of failed corporate espionage and armed bank robbers who failed to destroy security footage. He liked to think of how _he could’ve done better._  
  
“…and she said what?” Mr.Trembley shook his head as a student read aloud from the paper.   
  
“Then she shouted _death from above!_ and drop billiard balls down from the balcony onto his head.” The students laughed, even though the story itself wasn’t all that funny.  
  
“And if that happened here, the intruder could and would charge her with assault. Christ only in Canada.”   
  
“Same scenario as that mother who put of a surveillance camera aimed at her yard to see if her neighbour was watching her young daughter undress through her window. He charged her with invasion of privacy because she recorded him without his permission. Her evidence then became inadmissible.”   
  
Arthur organised his notes of the day, slipping them into protective paper before continuing. “If this had happened in Canada the woman would have been better off letting the man rob her home and then filing a claim for loss and damages.”  
  
“Very good Arthur. Now accord-“ The teacher frowned as the fire alarm went off and smoke began to seep under the door. “Alright everyone, line up at the door. Grab only what you need. ”  
  
He carefully slid his binder into his bag and headed to the door, familiar weight of the bag on his shoulder. After the last fire drill he had learned not to leave anything behind, no matter how awkward it was to carry.   
  
As the teacher opened the door, heavy smoke carried through the air, burning his throat as he breathed in. “Walk quickly but don’t run, don’t shove and remember our safe location.”  
  
As Arthur walked into the hall he let out a startled yelp when a body of warmth and weight slammed into his side, flattening him against the lockers. The burning smoke thick air made his eyes tear, mixing with the sweat of his brow.   
  
“Sorry, can’t see two bloody feet in front of me.” The warm body rasped into his shoulder before pushing himself off to look at Arthur. “You alright then?”  
  
He nodded, eyes watching Eames through blearing vision. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’m fine.”  
  
Eames stared at him for a moment before nodding. “Well then. We best get out of here. Come on.”  
  
Dry fingers enclosed around Arthur’s forearm, tugging him away from the lockers and into the masses of students rushing to escape the smoke.  
  
“I heard someone kid started a fire in the boy’s washroom.” Arthur watched the girl walk by, passing idle gossip to her girlfriends. “Least this got me out of home ec.”  
  
“Hope it wasn’t the boy’s toilet in the South Wing, that’s right near my locker.” Eames commented, ignoring the giggles from nearby.  
  
“Judging by the smoke patterns and the air ventilation, it’s from the East Wing, and the floor below.” Arthur supplied, eyes still drawn to the callused grip around his wrist.  
  
“You’re one of those freakishly intelligent people aren’t you?”  
  
He shrugged. “I suppose.”  
  
“Yeah heard you economics the other day. You really made Fitzgerald eat his words.” Eames laughed, the welcome sound drowned out by the whine of the rusted hinges protesting as they opened.  
  
“Well it was nice chatting with you but I gotta get in line before Mrs. Hurst thinks I’ve skipped out.”  
  
Arthur nodded, giving Eames a two-fingered wave. “Bye.”  
  
 _Graduation Day_  
  
His sweat slicked palms were clasped tightly around a folded sheet of paper. The steady thump of his heart beating inside his chest was so loud Arthur swore that the boy sitting next to him could hear it.   
  
Faintly Arthur could hear _him_ on the other side of the curtain dividers, he was conversing with the brute –Keith. The cheap fabric that hung loosely around his body began to itch, the sweat stained color suddenly too tight.   
  
With a deep breath he stood and began to approach the curtain, thin fingers reaching forward.   
  
“I swear to god that dumb fuck was watching you the whole time.”   
  
Arthur froze, breath escaping his lungs in a small choked gasp.   
  
“Really?” A familiar voice sounded through the drab velvet curtain, the soft rasp that could only be one person.   
  
“It was so gross man, I don’t know how you put up with that freak stalking you all year.”  
  
There was a quite chuckle. “It’s not all bad, really. Honestly I’m a bit flattered.”  
  
The slap of rubber soles on cheap tile snapped Arthur from the other boys’ conversation. Through a slight gap between cherry-coloured velvet _he_ could be seen, his robes unbuttoned and his face in profile.  
  
“Arthur honey, we’re taking pictures!” He flinched as the sweet sounding voice of his mother cut across the room. His dress shoes left dark lines on the floor as he hurried away from the curtain, not seeing as they ripped apart.  
  
After the camera flashed for the final time, Arthur scurried across the quad towards the changing rooms where he could finally shed the royal blue robes he had sported all day, bag in hand. His ever so proud mother wanted to take him out to dinner, to celebrate the only member of her family to graduate from high school.  
  
As he pushed through the metal doors, he slammed into a boy just as he was leaving.  
  
“Oh god, sorry.” The other boy collected Arthur’s items that he spilled from his open bag. “Is this your yearbook?”  
  
Arthur nodded, giving him a small smile. “I was going to get a few people to sign it that I had missed before.”  
  
“Myself included then? I don’t remember signing this.” The boy palmed the pockets of his jeans. “Got a pen?”  
  
Eames quickly flipped through the glossy pages before he scribbled something hastily. With a snap, it was closed and being shoved back into Arthur’s hands. “Read it later.”  
  
“Bye.” He muttered as the other boy dashed after his friends, his fingers firmly clasping the yearbook in his hands. It was only when he noticed the pointed corners had begun to cut into his palms did he pick up his remain things and head to the changing rooms.  
  
He quickly changed and met his mother in the parking lot.   
  
“I was thinking Anton’s for dinner, how does that sound?” She asked, glancing at him through the rear view mirror.  
  
“Fine.” Arthur said, finally mustering up the courage to open his yearbook. His pals were slick, leaving dark fingerprints on the fresh pages. He flipped through the autograph section, not seeing recent additions until he found Eames’ photo.  
  
 _I’m more than a little flattered actually._  
  
-E  
  
He stared.

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case it isn’t obvious, Arthur is Canadian and Eames is an exchange student.


End file.
